


sugar, sugar (come home to me)

by wonhaos



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, JohnDo, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Pining, dojohn, just 7 pages of johnny knocking down the brick walls of doyoung's aquarian heart, kinda beta-read by my partner, they cried while reading it if that says anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 19:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonhaos/pseuds/wonhaos
Summary: “Please let me in.” Johnny's voice was muffled beneath the fabric of his scarves. “My door is iced shut.”





	sugar, sugar (come home to me)

**Author's Note:**

> it's me again .. back with another fic while i still have others [*cough*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070498) to finish ....
> 
> i've been working on this one since november of last year LOL .. just tweaking things here and there and even changing the pairing entirely...and it still ended up being one of my shortest works on here? regardless, i hope all of my hard work has paid off and all of my readers enjoy it as much as i hope you will! thank you for sticking with me and supporting my work :))
> 
> with love,  
m

Doyoung normally wouldn’t be surprised to see Johnny at his front door. What surprised him was Johnny standing there despite the chilled wind that bit through the trees with unbridled force and the thick sheet of snowfall that accompanied it. He furrowed his eyebrows at the taller boy, who was comically bundled head to toe in winter wear. Johnny blinked the snowflakes from his eyelashes quickly, his eyes being the only visible things on his face due to the four scarves he’d stacked around his neck and the fluffy jacket hood he wore.

“Please let me in.” His voice was muffled beneath the fabric of his scarves. “My door is iced shut.”

Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows even more, but stepped aside anyways to let Johnny in before the latter contracted hypothermia. “You know,” he began, shutting the door once Johnny shuffled inside, “traditionally, you shouldn’t go out during a snowstorm.”

Johnny peeled the tower of scarves off of his face, inhaling the new, warm air. With his free hand, he held a plastic shopping bag up, that stupid grin Doyoung was too used to plastered on his face. “I was buying cookies.”

Of course he was. Doyoung snatched the bag, opening it and peering inside. Sure enough, there was a clear bin of cookies resting inside. The nasty ones, too, with the latex-flavored icing. “You would think you could make your own at home with the amount of times you come over to ask for sugar,” he deadpanned, giving Johnny an accusing glare. 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder, slowly sliding the multiple jackets he wore off of his broad shoulders as he met Doyoung’s gaze evenly. “Sugar, shmugar,” he evaded, “you enjoy my company and you know it.” Doyoung only grimaced in return, dropping the plastic bag on the table. He knew no one needed _that_ much sugar, but he was always (not admittedly) happy to play along.

After hanging his jackets and scarves on the back of Doyoung’s living room couch, Johnny made his way to the table, inviting himself to sit down on one of the dining chairs and reaching for the cookies. “You can have some,” he offered to Doyoung underneath the rustle of the plastic, looking up at the younger.

“No, thanks.” Doyoung _hated_ how handsome Johnny was. It’s as if the loathing for Johnny’s physical appearance grew worse every time they interacted. He had literally trudged through a raging snowstorm, yet his hair had been perfectly tousled as if by a light winter breeze, the wispy coffee brown strands appearing airbrushed against his flushed skin. His nose, bright red from the cold, wrinkled cutely at Doyoung’s instantaneous response, causing Doyoung to look away.

“More for me, then,” Johnny singsonged, grinning to himself as he peeled open the cookie box. Doyoung tried not to linger on how soft Johnny looked in his white oversized sweater, instead pushing himself off of his resting spot the counter and moving to the fridge. “What have you been up to?” Johnny asked over a mouthful.

Doyoung sighed with distaste, swinging the refrigerator door open. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he scolded, squinting against the light of the fridge. “I’ve been preparing for the blackout.”

He could hear the confusion wavering in Johnny’s voice. “Blackout?”

“Do you not watch the news? Or the weather channel?”

“No. I’m not old.”

Shutting the door with a heavy sigh (after not finding something sufficient enough to distract himself with), Doyoung rested his hands on his hips. “The snowstorm is supposed to get so bad that it’ll cut the powerlines,” he informed the taller, glancing over to find said boy shoving cookies into his mouth. “If you’d watched the weather channel, you would’ve stayed inside and not risked freezing to death.”

Johnny gulped the cookies down, blanching. “I could’ve _died_?”

“And it’s a darn shame you didn’t.” Doyoung gave a gentle ruffle to Johnny’s hair as he walked by when met with a pout, mumbling a small “I’m kidding” before stepping away and stretching his arms over his head. “They think the power’ll be down for a couple of days, so I made sure to stock up on food. I also bought extra blankets. Not that I’m giving you any.” Luckily, the fridge and freezer had built-in emergency cooling in cases like these, so he directed most of his worries to the heater being shut off during the outage. He hated being cold.

“You won’t kick me out, will you?” Doyoung was faced again with Johnny’s pout. He felt his eye twitch and ignored it, deciding to disappear down the hall and gather all of the candles he kept in the hall closet.

“Not if you behave,” he called back, smiling a little at the sound of Johnny’s indignant and high-pitched “hey!” that followed. Now that Johnny was here, he realized with a weird twist in his gut, he might as well stay. It’s not like the boy could go anywhere else, what with the torrential snowfall and his front door allegedly being iced shut.

“You wouldn’t let me die out there,” Johnny said very matter-of-factly. “You’d be overstocked on sugar.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

The moment Doyoung returned with the candles and set them down on the kitchen counter with a clank, the lights above their heads flickered for a brief two-count before shutting off. He heaved out a sigh as he heard the buzz of the heater die and watched the digital time on the microwave dull into nothing. The silence that suddenly blanketed the house was eerily uncomfortable; the only audible noise was the tremor of tree leaves and the low, menacing whistle of the wind.

A moment of silence passed before Johnny muttered “blackout” over a mouthful of cookies. Doyoung couldn’t help his eye roll at the declaration of the obvious.

“It sure does look like one.” 

Johnny mocked Doyoung’s sarcastic tone under his breath before shoving another cookie into his mouth, a childish scowl on his face. Doyoung sat back down at the table and fell silent as he watched Johnny eat his cookies. It wasn’t quite nighttime yet, but the storm dyed the remaining rays of sunlight seeping through the windows a deep gray, filling Doyoung’s house with darkness. Even so, Johnny’s skin combated the sickly light with its golden hue. It would be easy to reach out and touch the smooth skin of his cheek, or glide a finger against his jaw, or even brush a pair of lips against forehead. More and more often, when Doyoung sat looking at Johnny like this, the thought that _maybe_ Doyoung could let him in became more persistent.

(It’s not like he hadn’t already, but he had always been good at pretending.)

“Has Taeyong said anything lately?”

Doyoung frowned, meeting Johnny’s eyes briefly before tilting his head away to stare at the wall blankly. “Barely,” he mumbled, scratching against the wood of his table with his index finger, “but he finally apologized.”

“That’s good.” A tense pause. “Are you talking again?”

Letting out an exhale, Doyoung turned to meet Johnny’s gaze. When Johnny first moved in three years ago, Doyoung’s ex boyfriend of six years still lived with him. At the time, Doyoung and Johnny never shared more than a greeting when they saw each other. It wasn’t until Doyoung kicked Taeyong out two years later after a nasty break up and resorted to isolating himself in his home that Johnny started coming over. For a while, he would just ask for cooking supplies, giving Doyoung the strangest, scrutinizing looks when he did so. Then Doyoung started letting him inside, offering tea. If anyone asked, Doyoung would say Johnny was a thorn in his side -- he would show up once or twice a week, ask if Doyoung had any spare sugar or extra hot sauce or “a spatula...I cracked mine in half” and would seldom leave Doyoung’s house without sitting at the dining table and mooching off of the homeowner’s tea supply. Eventually, after about seven months, Johnny admitted that it was never _about_ sugar or anything, and more about making sure Doyoung was coping well by himself. It was stupid -- of course Doyoung could cope, he was a grown ass adult -- but he would never admit that having Johnny there helped him get out of bed some days.

Doyoung had never been one to deal with his emotions properly. Over the span of two decades and a handful of years, he had gotten so used to shutting people out. He should’ve shut Taeyong out, too, the second the latter started hiding his phone whenever Doyoung playfully hung himself over his boyfriend’s shoulder, or when leaving the house in the middle of dinner to answer phone calls on the patio became a nightly routine. Of course the only person Doyoung ever loved had another boy on the side. Of _course_ when Doyoung finally learned to show his emotions he was betrayed. He didn’t know when these “trust issues,” as his friends so delicately put it, started, but what he did know was that Taeyong made it almost impossible for him to trust again. 

Almost.

Because there was Johnny -- his goofy smile and endearing lisp and kind heart and warm eyes and caring words -- but Doyoung was sure the last thing he wanted was to fall in love _again_. Both of them knew there was something there -- you would have to be dead not to notice it -- but Doyoung was scared. _So_ scared. Scared out of his mind when Johnny gave him soft smiles and fleeting touches. Completely terrified when he wanted nothing more than to pour his heart out to him every time the latter showed up at his doorstep with lingering eyes.

“No,” Doyoung mumbled, “we aren’t talking again.” He hated those nasty cookies but he reached for one anyways. “I told him what’s done is done and that I don’t want him speaking to me again. I wished him well, though.”

“That’s good.” Johnny was always good at giving Doyoung the proper amount of space, and it made Doyoung absolutely sick. “I mean, he should’ve apologized about four months ago, but whatever.”

Doyoung laughed at the way Johnny’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “What? Are you gonna go beat him up, o’ loyal knight of mine?” He bit into the cookie he had grabbed and tried his best to control his face when the plastic taste invaded his senses. Nasty.

Johnny rolled his eyes, a soft, hearty laugh of his own falling from his lips like honey. “Say the words and I’ll ride off on my steed to duel him for my damsel’s heart.”

The darker it got, the colder the inside of the house became. They had transferred their bodies to the couch when the tin of cookies was starting to look barren, and Doyoung was trying to decide how he was going to situate the single blanket between them. Johnny finished setting the last lit candle on the coffee table before leaning against the back of the couch, pulling his legs up underneath his body and looking down at the circle of fall-scented flames. His eyes glowed in the shine of the fire, irises bright and honey-colored in the dark. “It’s cold,” he mumbled childishly. Doyoung decided to scoot them closer together, pressing his own arm against Johnny’s. Johnny immediately went rigid at the contact as if it was something he’d never felt before (which, specifically coming from Doyoung, it probably wasn’t). “Doyo-?”

“Quiet,” Doyoung murmured, taking the blanket that was draped around his shoulders and stretching one end out past Johnny’s shoulders. “Here, grab this.” Tentatively, Johnny grabbed the end of the soft fabric hovering over his arm with his left hand. Doyoung took the other end in his right hand and pulled it against his chest, effectively trapping them both underneath the blanket. He looked up at Johnny’s face (which was most certainly closer than he had estimated prior); the confusion in his eyes flickered rhythmically with the quivering of the candlelight.

“I thought you had multiple blankets,” Johnny whispered, soft as if he was struggling not to wake a sleeping baby. “You said you just bought them.”

“Maybe I did.” A pause. A raised eyebrow. “You can go get them.”

“No! No, this is fine.”

Doyoung hummed in response, letting Johnny pull them closer together. The blanket barely covered them both, but Doyoung hoped Johnny cared as little as he did. He rested his head against the older boy’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting out a loud sigh. “How do you do it?” he mumbled, toying with the soft blanket fabric between his fingers and watching his own breath swirl in front of his face.

“Do what?” Johnny asked after a slight delay.

“You know.” Doyoung felt a chill roll up his arms through the tips of his fingers, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter against him. “Make me feel like there’s nothing to worry about.” He tensed up a little when he felt the press of Johnny’s nose against the top of his head.

“There’s nothing to worry about with me.” His voice was low, combated by the howl of the wind beating against the windows. Doyoung felt himself relax under the faint press of the nose in his hair. “You know I only want to protect you.”

“I know.” He then reached for Johnny’s hand with his own, fingers hesitating when they came in contact with skin. “Can I?”

Johnny didn’t answer; he simply laced their fingers together. It was comforting. His hand was significantly bigger than Doyoung’s...maybe that’s why it felt like they were made to hold hands like this. It was warm, too, which was always something Doyoung loved about Johnny. He was always so warm. And Doyoung hated being cold.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Johnny shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to Doyoung’s temple. His heart skipped.

“You’re shivering,” he told the younger, pulling him impossibly closer. “Do I need to get more blankets?”

“No...this is fine.”

Johnny’s front door opened with a sickening crack. Doyoung lowered his foot and stood triumphantly in the doorway, looking up at Johnny with a wide grin. “I did it.”

It had been two nights and three days since the power went out. On day one, Doyoung insisted Johnny stay, even though there wasn’t a lot to do (and who was Johnny to decline him?). On day two, Johnny tried to open his own front door, insisting that he couldn’t intrude any longer, but it wouldn’t budge, not even when he rammed the side of his body into it and suffered from a shoulder bruise that Doyoung had to nurse with a bag of frozen vegetables. Consequently, he stayed another night. It was day three and Doyoung was certain he’d never get tired of Johnny, but Johnny argued against Doyoung’s suggestion to stay over once again. He said Doyoung needed his space. Doyoung wanted Johnny _in_ his space. He didn’t say that out loud, of course, instead settling with a “bet you ten thousand I can kick your door in.”

“You really did it.” Johnny moved to step inside but spun around before he could, gesturing into his house with his sideways smile. “Would you care for some tea, Kim Doyoung?”

Doyoung smirked, slipping past Johnny’s body. “Sure, after you direct deposit ten thousand won into my account.”

The house was nice and distinctly Johnny-like, all warm colors and cozy fabrics. Instead of lingering on the comfy interior, Doyoung’s eyes went straight to the kitchen where a mountain of white bags that seemed all too familiar sat on the counter next to the microwave. He pointed accusingly at the mound, eyebrows furrowed. “Is that my sugar? It looks like you’ve barely used any!”

“Well, there’s a reason for that.” Johnny chuckled, the sound of the front door closing following his voice. “I don’t cook.”

A pause followed Johnny’s confession, which had caused Doyoung’s heart to skid like tires on an iced road to a brief halt. He tilted his head back to look up at Johnny, whose cheeks were flushed from the cold and whose eyes were already trained on his. He turned his body around fully until they were facing each other, lips twitching up into a knowing grin. “You don’t cook?”

“Not really, no.”

Doyoung glanced back at the pile of sugar. “You’ve just been stealing my sugar?”

“Uh...I guess? When you put it like that, it's kind of...”

“Why do you always ask for it when you don’t even-”

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions that you can answer for yourself, Doyoung.”

Doyoung tore his gaze away from the sugar to look back up at Johnny once again, resenting the fact that he had to _tilt his head back_ to get a full view of his face. The man in front of him looked as soft as ever; as soft as he did every night when Doyoung cuddled up to him and as soft as he did when Doyoung woke up to his relaxed, sleeping face. “Can I kiss you?”

Johnny looked taken aback, like he wouldn’t in a million years have heard those words leave Doyoung’s lips. It was a valid response, anyways; Doyoung didn’t think he’d ever be saying them, either. He tried to blame it on the fact that he hadn’t seen the light of day in almost half a week, and in that time all he could see, hear, and think about was Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Spending nights too close for comfort with someone as warm as him was bound to make one think irrationally, right? He’d have to look that up later.

Christmas was in a week, and there in the dining room in front of a comically tall tower of half-used bags of sugar with Johnny’s lips pressed against his, hard like the persistent force of a snowstorm, Doyoung had a feeling that trusting one more person to love him would be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lluuda)   
[tumblr](https://w6nwoo.tumblr.com)


End file.
